BX 
R53O5 





LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. !' 



[FORCE COLLECTION.] 

UN.ITED STATES OP AMERICA. 



DISCOURSE 




PREACHED AT NEEDHAM, 



OCTOBER 24, 1841 



BY REV. WILLIAM RITCHIE, 

Pastor of the First Congregational Society in that Town. 



BOSTON : 

PUBLISHED BY BENJAMIN H. GREEN 

,1841. 



DISCOURSE 



PREACHED AT NEED HAM, 



OCTOBER 24, 1841. 



BY REY. WILLIAM RITCHIE, 

Pastor of the First Congregational Society in that Town. 



BOSTON : T 

PUBLISHED BY BENJAMIN H. GREENE. 

1841. 



boston : 
printed by s. n. dickinson; 
washington street. 



DISCOURSE. 



THERE WAS A GARDEN ; AND IN THE GARDEN A NEW SEPULCHRE. 
St. John's Gospel, xix. 41. 

Two objects are here united the most dissimilar in 
their effect on the human mind ; the one delightful and 
attractive, the other gloomy and repulsive. We asso- 
ciate every thing charming in our idea of a garden ; 
but decay and darkness, separation and desolation are 
the natural associations with the tomb. Gardens, in 
which every rare and beautiful flower and every vari- 
ety of delicious fruit has been cultivated, have among 
all civilized nations been highly valued. It was in a 
garden that our first parents were created, surrounded 
with delightful groves, fragrant and beautiful flowers, 
and delicious fruits. It is not therefore strange that 
their descendants should have cherished a desire to per- 
petuate the blissful scene of innocence and joy. The 
Romans were passionately attached to their extensive 
and richly cultivated gardens. Their opulent men had 
their gardens so situated in relation to their dwellings, 
that in every position in which they sat or reclined, 



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they could have a view of a portion of their beauties. 
The Jews also devoted much attention to the same 
object. To these our Saviour and his disciples often 
resorted. We read of his passing, after one of his con- 
solatory discourses to his disciples, the brook Cedron, 
where was a garden, into which he entered and his 
disciples. Near the place where he was crucified was 
also a garden, in the garden a new sepulchre, wherein 
was never man laid. There they laid Jesus, for the 
sepulchre was nigh at hand. 

My text suggests to us how nearly connected are our 
joys and our sorrows. In the same garden of ever va- 
rying beauty and delight there is a sepulchre. I have 
not chosen this subject that I may dwell upon my own 
sorrows and afflictions ; deep as they are, they are only 
the common lot of humanity. Some of you have ex- 
perienced as great, yea greater ; and there are those 
now connected with me, whose afflictions must have a 
far more blighting influence on their plans and pros- 
pects. At my time of life it is not to be expected that 
I could long enjoy the pleasure, great as it was, of the 
affections and attentions of departed children ; but they 
were the joy of their husbands' hearts, intimately asso- 
ciated with all their purposes, and anticipating, accord- 
ing to the course of nature, a much longer and more 
interesting period of life and usefulness. 

I said I had not now alluded to this subject, which 
you cannot but know fills my mind, that I might in- 
dulge a useless and wasting grief, but to express my 
gratitude for the sympathy felt for me and my family, 



5 



and the friendly aid afforded during the protracted 
sickness of the beloved object of our affection ; gone 
we doubt not, where sorrow and sighing flee away. 
As we all have either passed or may pass through simi- 
lar scenes of trial, I have thought that both you and 
myself might derive important lessons of instruction 
from the subject which my text so interestingly pre- 
sents. 

1. The near connexion between our joys and sor- 
rows impressively teaches us to rejoice as though 
we rejoiced not, and to weep as though we wept 
not ; that is, to moderate our joy and our sorrow. 
It is not necessary in order to do this to fill our 
minds with forebodings of undefinable scenes of sorrow 
or of joy in store for us. No, our only firm resting- 
place is in correct views of the evanescent nature of 
every thing earthly, and in firm trust in the wisdom and 
goodness of the divine administration. If we love 
God, and trust in Him as our Heavenly Father, who 
tenderly loves us, and never afflicts us but for our good, 
we shall commit all our friends and interests to his dis- 
posal, and feel happy that He permits us so to do. Then 
we can walk through the most pleasant garden which 
his love has prepared for our delight, enjoying the 
effects of his wisdom and goodness, admiring the beauty 
and order we behold, and not be alarmed at the tomb 
which frequently presents itself to our view ; because 
we connect them in our daily thoughts, and are per- 
suaded that this is the appointment of paternal love. 
And although our prospects are often suddenly dark- 



G 



ened, and a deep shade is thrown over all which de- 
lighted us ; still we recognize the hand and love of Him 
whose ways are mysterious and past finding out, and 
feel that duty requires us to bow in submission to the 
perfect will of God. We are however frequently so 
unwise in the day of prosperity, when our children are 
about us, and the candle of the Lord shines upon our 
tabernacle, as to extend our views far into the future, 
the imagination raising one beautiful image beyond 
another to delight us, until the mind, bewildered and 
lost in the scene, forgets that we all dwell in houses of 
clay, and that our foundation is in the dust. In such 
scenes of earthly delight, which exist only in the imagi- 
nation, we are poorly prepared for the sad reality of 
our condition, which is a checkered scene of joy and 
sorrow. In the day of adversity we are in danger of 
sinking too low, of feeling that all sources of consola- 
tion are dried up, and that no sorrow is like our sorrow. 
By wisely contemplating our condition we shall neither 
be too much elated in prosperity, nor too much de- 
pressed in adversity. We shall be led to see and rejoice 
that there are sources of pleasure which the world can- 
not affect ; that these are as unchangeable as God him- 
self; that they are in prosperity the life of all our joys; 
in adversity and affliction a solace to all our sufferings ; 
and an unfailing source of hope and joy to the undy- 
ing soul. 

2. We are taught not to magnify objects in our grief, 
and in the delightful garden which God has promised, 
so to situate ourselves that the small tomb should not 



7 



obscure our prospect and destroy our enjoyment of the 
scene around us. When we move through the delight- 
ful walks of the garden, accompanying a beloved ob- 
ject of affection to the tomb, it cannot be expected 
that our eyes will be open to the most beautiful flowers 
which border our path. No ; one absorbing object 
fills the soul, and every thing else is involved in a 
gloomy shade. But when the last sad office is per- 
formed, and we have sat down under the shadow of the 
tomb to mourn our loss : it becomes us to recollect, 
that this is the habitation of the dead, and hot o f the 
living ; that duty calls us to arise and perform the work 
given us to do, that we may be prepared for the rest of 
the tomb, for the rest which remains for the people of 
God. 

We may frequently visit the tomb. We may adorn 
the ground where our dead rest, and spread beauty over 
this region of desolation to our affections. And it 
seems strange that we should not endeavor to render 
more pleasant our associations with our beloved friends 
who are dead ; strange that we should leave the place 
where they are deposited as if they were forgotten, or 
remembered only in connexion with every thing barren 
and uncultivated. But there are indications of a better 
taste in the community, and the habitations of the dead 
will, 1 trust, every where be rendered less repulsive ; 
yes, and have a charm, which will invite all to walk 
among them with emotions, pleasing though mournful 
to the soul. Occasional visits to the tomb are salutary ; 
but active duty is the business of life. By visiting the 



8 



graves of dear friends the mind is softened and ren- 
dered more susceptible of religious impressions, and 
we are aided in making the improvement we ought of 
solemn and afflictive events, and are thus quickened in 
the discharge of duty. But, what an effort is required 
to do this ! In our afflictions we are prone to look 
around upon multitudes who seem to be of little use 
in the world, who have few interested in them, and we 

r why one,* around whom 
duster, one associated to 
esting and pleasant in life, 
i away ; yea, and why another * 
L follow in M uick succession, whose loss to our- 
selves is almost equally severe, and to others even more 
afflictive and overwhelming. But this is altogether a 
wrong state of feeling, however spontaneously it rises 
in the mind of the deeply afflicted. It is a feeling 
prompted by erroneous views of the ways and provi- 
dence of God. It leads us to murmur, and not to sub- 
mit. And although few can avoid the thought, that it 
is strange and mysterious that we are thus deprived of 
those who were and might be, as long as we live, so 
blended with our existence and happiness, that all seems 
desolate without them ; yet on mature reflection we 
clearly perceive that it is far more agreeable to our 
condition as dependent, sinful beings, to feel grateful 
that God gave us such a treasure in our children, and 
that we were so long permitted to enjoy their society. 



See Notes A. and B. 



9 



They were all we could wish whilst living. Christians 
in profession and in character, they are now gone to 
hold communion with their God and Saviour, to engage 
in all the intellectual, moral, social, and religious em- 
ployments of a higher state of being, where beloved 
sisters recognize each other and harmoniously unite in 
all those offices of affection and love so congenial to 
their characters. 

Instead of repining that such undeserved blessings, 
only lent us for our joy and happiness, are recalled, 
ought we not to be filled with gratitude that we enjoyed 
them so long, that they have left on our minds so deep 
an impression of their worth? So long as memory 
remains, the pleasing vision of what they were will 
frequently pass over our minds, like the visits of angels, 
speaking peace, and calming the agitations of earth. 
This ought, my friends, to be always the view we take 
of bereavements under the providence of God. For 
myself, I feel that an immense debt of gratitude is due 
to Him who gave me such daughters ; that instead of 
being more miserable in their early removal, than I 
should have been had I never possessed them, I not 
only have been, but, when the intensity of grief is 
past, always shall be happier for their existence. Such 
seem to me to be correct views of God's holy provi- 
dence. They justify his dealings with us; reconcile 
our wills to his ; and breathe calmness and resignation 
into the soul. The tomb shrinks back into its proper 
dimensions. Its dark shade is not permitted to extend 
over the beautiful garden of God. The mind rests 
2 



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with confidence and peace on the rock of ages. The 
wise and good Governor of the universe does all things 
well, and will make all things, if we are not wanting 
to ourselves, work together for our good. 

3. What unspeakable consolation does the thought 
impart, that this tomb in the garden was the tomb 
where Jesus was laid! Dreary and desolate is the 
tomb of nature. Every son and daughter of Adam, 
deposited there, decays and wastes away. Man re- 
turns to the dust from whence he was taken. Hence 
the heathen world conducted their dead to their last 
abode with the most bitter and heart-piercing lamenta- 
tions. They mourned without hope. But blessed be 
God, christians can turn from this dreary abode, this 
everlasting night, to the tomb of Jesus, where the 
bright morning of resurrection dawns. And, behold, 
inscribed in legible characters, " I am the resurrection 
and the life. Whoever believeth in me, though he 
were dead, yet shall he live." The scene is changed. 
Life and immortality are clearly brought to light. 
We with the disciples stoop down to look into the tomb 
of Jesus ; and behold, he is not there. The corrupti- 
ble has put on incorruption ; the mortal has put on 
immortality. Instead of darkness and desolation, all 
is light and beautiful. Angels are sitting there in all 
the brightness and splendor of immortality, inquiring, 
why seek ye the living among the dead ? He has risen 
and become the first fruits of them that slept. What 
light and consolation have beamed forth from the tomb 
of Jesus to the christian world ! How does it soothe 



11 



the pangs of separation to reflect that to be with Christ 
is far better than to dwell with the best earthly friends ; 
and we almost chide ourselves for our selfishness in 
wishing to retain those we love from higher enjoyments 
than earth affords. But frail humanity must mourn ; 
it is impossible when loved ones are called away, not 
deeply to feel their loss. Were it otherwise, the pur- 
pose of God in their removal, our improvement and 
sanctification, could not be accomplished. But al- 
though we must feel, and deeply feel, when we sustain 
the loss of dear friends, the consolations of Christianity 
sustain and soothe the soul, and lead the mind from the 
dreary, desolate abode of the dead, to brighter regions 
beyond the grave. Blessed are the dead who die in 
the Lord : yea, saith the spirit, they rest from their la- 
bors, and their works do follow them. In my Father's 
house are many mansions, said Jesus ; if it were not so, 
I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for 
you ; and if I go away I will come again and receive 
you unto myself; that where I am, ye may be also. 
Enlightened by these discoveries, and animated with the 
prospects which religion unfolds, the christian will de- 
part with tranquillity ; and partaking of the spirit of the 
world to come, the last scene will be full of peace and 
hope of a blessed immortality. 



NOTES. 



A. 

Sophia Ritchie, daughter of Rev. William and Mrs. Clarissa Ritchie, 
born in Canton, Mass., Jan. 11, 1819, was married to Nicholas Tilling- 
hast, Esq., on February 25th, 1841, and died October 5th, 1841. 

In intellectual, social, moral and religious qualities, and in her situation 
in life, she was all the fondest parents could have anticipated or wished. 
Devoted to her husband, they lived in each other's affections ; and pain- 
ful is the stroke which severs her from him and from her other friends. 
But there is solace in all our afflictions. Her life and death fill her 
friends with the joyful hope that she has entered that world of love and 
peace so congenial to her character. Her sickness was severe, and pro- 
tracted for more than four months, and with the vigorous exercise of her 
intellectual powers to the last moments of life, and with all the attach- 
ments to life which youth and flattering prospects inspire ; she endured 
her lot with great equanimity and christian patience, and closed life 
without a murmur. 



B. 

Caroline Whitaker, daughter of the late Rev. Jonathan and Mrs. 
Mary Whitaker, born in Sharon, Mass., July 12, 1810, was married to 
James Ritchie in April, 1837, and died September 24, 1841. 

From the New Orleans Picayune. 

When the virtuous die, the hearts of all who loved them are wrung 
with grief, — the kind sympathies of friends, though grateful, cannot 
alleviate ; and we turn from the insufficiency of earthly consolation, to 



14 



the all-wise Creator, who has seen fit thus to afflict us. But how much 
is the burden of our grief lightened, if the faith of the departed grew 
brighter in death, and when the agonizing pang of parting with the 
loved on earth was passed, the ready soul waited with impatient wing to be 
released for heaven ! It was thus with her who has " gone from amongst 
us in silence down." She sleeps far away from her own New England, 
beneath the dark foliage of a southern land, but not unhonored or un- 
wept. Her virtues won her a place in many hearts, where her memory 
shall be kept as a holy thing ; and though few of her kindred were near 
to pay the last sad rites, yet there were many sisters in affection to weep 
for the loved and lost. And when the trials and afflictions of life shall 
come upon them, they will recall the example of one who never turned 
aside from the path of duty, however arduous; and the weariness and 
impatience of their hearts shall pass away. 



